Alike - Part Two
by Iris-Rei
Summary: Now it's Matt's turn...


Alike

  
Part three   
by Iris-Rei 

Digimon isn't owned by me, but the fanfic itself is. You copy, and you'll have to answer to me. *tries to act menacing*

=====

You might've already heard part of this story...

But no one's heard all of it.

Until now...

~*~*~

I hate my mother. Not like you hated yours; it was a strong, deep hatred that comes from a long time ago.

I hate her for splitting up my family.

I hate her for slapping me when I was young.

Most of all, I hate her for killing my father...

~*~*~

Thirteen years ago, both of my parents were alive and well.

Sort of.

Mother and Father always fought, fought, and fought. They'd make up every once in a while, but still there was hardly a glass object in the house.

It was a sort of pendulum, a rhythmic swing from pure hatred between them to pure love. But the pendulum seemed to be stopping at one end more and more.

My father was a kind of geeky guy who didn't like fighting. He loved the peace and quiet. Mother, who was always active, goaded him into moving.

Recently, though, Mother was getting more and more annoyed at my father for not helping her with the chores and such. The tension was building every moment they spent together.

One day, they fought. I ran away to my room, feeling depressed, like I always did when they fought. After a moment, I heard them shouting again. Even though my fingers were thoroughly jammed in my ears, I could still hear them.

I heard my mother yelling. "Oh, good excuse! You're taking care of Matt; that must take a lot of energy!"

"Nancy, we shouldn't fight like this," replied my father.

"WHY SHOULDN'T WE?" Mother sounded crazed, like a maniac. "YOU ALWAYS START THESE THINGS, AND YOU DON'T GET US OUT OF THEM!"

"SHUT UP!!!" There was silence for a moment.

**__**

"YOU SHUT UP!!!" _That couldn't be the mother I know,_ I thought to myself. Even so, I knew deep inside that it was.

They stopped yelling for a moment, and crashing sounds resumed.

"You know, if it weren't for Matt, I'd be out of here," I heard my father say after a while.

"SCREW MATT!! TO HELL WITH HIM!!"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The reason they were still unhappily together--was me.

And mother didn't seem to want me anymore.

"Nancy..."

__

C'mon, dad, I thought nervously, _You can stop Mom. Make her come to her senses!_

I heard a drawer slide open.

"You know what, Kayatu?" Mother's voice was dangerously calm and cold. "I could stab you with this and get away with it."

"You wouldn't."

__

What were they talking about?

"I WOULD!"

There was a sickening fleshy sound.

And I couldn't hear anything else.

I quietly moved out of my room, and cautiously edged toward the kitchen. Wreckage was everywhere. Here was the television set, screen completely broken with wires poking out. There was Father's potted palm tree, out of its pot. The kitchen seemed to be the main point of it all. Broken things were everywhere, and in the middle of it--

I stifled a cry.

Mother was standing there, looking oddly triumphant. Even her eyes were overly bright and she was still shaking, her head was tall and proud, facing her handiwork.

Father was on the floor, a large knife and blood coming from his chest that was once whole only seconds before.

Then I couldn't help it. Tears came down.

~*~*~

"And he said, 'Nancy, I can't take this anymore!' And--and then...he stabbed himself."

It was six months after Father died. Mother didn't grieve much--the only crying she did was in front of other people while she told her "sad story."

I didn't bother to tell anyone the truth--I had already lost my father, I didn't want to lose my mother, murderous though she was.

Mother hardly noticed me. More often than not, I would wake up to find some sliced bread, a peanut butter jar, and a jam jar on the kitchen table. That was my breakfast, lunch, and dinner unless Mother "didn't feel like working" and stayed home.

One day, without warning, she came home from work early, one of those few occasions. She excitedly picked me up and hugged me, the first time in a year.

"Guess what, Yama?" she asked me.

"What?" What else was I supposed to say?

"I'm getting married!" She put me down roughly and danced around a bit. "It's Tanaka Ishida! You know him, right? The one who works for the TV station?"

I dimly remembered going with my mother to the TV station some time ago and seeing someone called Ishida.

"Isn't he the person who gave me a lollipop?"

"Yes, darling!" She stopped for a moment. Then she rushed off to her room, muttering something about moving.

__

Darling?? This Ishida person must be better than I thought.

They married two months later. We moved into my new dad's apartment in Highton View Terrace.

Life was okay after that. Dad seemed better at keeping Mother quiet than my old father was, and she was practically still smitten with him. They had a son, Takeru.

He took after Mother, like me. Blond hair, blue eyes. But he was happy and very social; friends seemed to appear instantly wherever he was. Me? I never was much of a people person.

But T.K. became a good brother and friend. I told him all my secrets when he was a baby, and I still told him secrets when he became bigger. He would watch me with his big blue eyes, so much like mine, and innocently suck his thumb. I never told him about my real father, though.

Even though they got along really well, Mother and Dad started fighting. It was much quieter than the out-right bashes before, though. I could here them at night. Curled up underneath my covers, I would here them shout at each other, but at the end, they would always say, "Let's stay together...for T.K."

I don't know how, but that made me feel that T.K. was more important than me. When I was younger than T.K., Mother shouted that I was worth nothing. Or maybe she was just softening.

But one day, they fought harder than ever before. I tried to ignore them, but I could still hear them. My memories kept flicking back to that horrid night, when my real dad lost his life.

Then, the door slammed open. Mother turned on the lights and went to T.K. Dad stood in the doorway, watching silently with a frown on his face.

"T.K. T.K., wake up," she said to him. My little brother woke up slowly, yawning.

"What are we doing this early?" he asked innocently. I wondered for a moment how he was so impervious to the aura of tension in the room.

"Pack up, T.K. We're leaving. For good." Mother slid an accusing glance at Dad. 

"We're leaving? Isn't Daddy and Matt coming too?" He rubbed an eye sleepily.

Mother's face grew cold and she replied, "No. They're not coming. It's just you and me, T.K. Won't that be fun?" She tried a fake smile for him.

T.K. started to cry and wail. Mother shook him gently, but that didn't stop the flood of tears. Finally, she gave up and walked out of the room.

When Mother left, T.K. ran to me and, between his sobs, cried, "I don't want to leave you, Matt! I--don't--want!"

I tried to comfort him the best I could. I gently pried him off and packed up all his clothes and some of his toys in a briefcase I found in the closet. I tried not to think about what I was doing. All I felt was a sort of cold feeling, like I wasn't really feeling anything at all.

After I finished, I kissed him on the cheek and said, "I'll miss you, T.K."

He was already asleep.

~*~*~

In the morning, Mother and T.K. drove off in a taxi. Dad and I stood by the door, watching. As I watched the cab drive off, the shock of it all finally sunk in. I buried my face in Dad's shirt and cried for all I was worth. Dad held me for a while, and then hissed in my ear, "You're making a scene of yourself. Go inside, wash up, and pack up. It's too expensive to keep up this apartment; we're moving."

I pulled myself away from him and rushed inside. There I stood in the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, and then thought to myself, _I look stupid. Look at me, crying just because--because T.K.'s left me._

Then, as if on cue, I remembered all the things I had lost. My father, my mother, T.K...and now I was even losing this apartment, where my happiest times were. I felt my eyes build up with tears again--and held them back.

__

No, I won't cry. I'll never cry. I will not be weak.

~*~*~

Sora stared in the direction where she knew Matt was. It was so dark now she could barely make out the outline of him.

"I vowed never to tell anyone about this," said Matt. She thought she heard tears splashing on the floor. "Everytime I think about this, I feel worse than ever. And talking about it--somehow, I feel better."

Sora stood up and reached for Matt. She could feel his cheek. "Sometimes it's better to tell someone."

Matt turned around to face her and smiled. He knew she couldn't see it, but he made it evident that he felt better by leaning forward and kissing her.

When they broke apart for breath, Sora whispered, "Could you do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Don't tell Tai."

Matt chuckled and caressed her hand. "I think that he would be better off not knowing."

They fell asleep in each other's arms.

=====

Yeah, Tai might not be too happy if he knew...


End file.
